


a prayer

by Kaatiba



Series: atla missing moments [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Book 1: Water (Avatar), Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury Recovery, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Missing Scene, POV Iroh (Avatar)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25418086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaatiba/pseuds/Kaatiba
Summary: Iroh and Zuko's first time seeing his injury unbandaged
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Zuko & Zuko's Crew (Avatar)
Series: atla missing moments [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841065
Comments: 7
Kudos: 160





	a prayer

_All this because I could not stand up to my brother._

Iroh knew that self blame was not fruitful, but as he looked at the mass of bloody bandages covering Ursa’s sweet, sensitive boy, he couldn’t help but feel guilt course through his system.

In his grief over Lu Ten it seems he somewhat overlooked another brave young prince who needed him. Who needed protection not from the enemy but from his own father.

Iroh felt fury course through his veins. 

His nephew groaned in his sleep, sweat still dotting his face. He hadn’t properly woken up since Iroh had coaxed him from the palace to the pitiful wani Ozai had provided. He’d been delirious when Iroh had helped explain that they needed to go, now. 

Zuko would not get a final look at his homeland. Iroh bowed his head in emphatic grief and continued to brush his nephew’s forehead with a cold towel. 

Thankfully, the ship’s crew had already included a healer, he stood near Iroh in the cramped quarter on the now gently rocking ship. 

The man, Akiro he remembered, spoke softly, “He’ll need fresh bandages soon.”

Iroh nodded his head. He wanted to watch, so that he could help do so as needed in the weeks to come. 

He had no illusions that the recovery from this injury- both physical and spiritual- would be an incredibly long and winding one, and he had begun to steel himself to this fact. 

He gave Akiro space to approach his nephew’s bedside, and the healer approached, steadily beginning to lift the edges of Zuko’s bandages. He pulled them off in layers, quickly and efficiently, until the wound was exposed to the open air. 

The younger man turned to the general looking somber and sad, “It’s best if we give the injury a bit of time to air out,” he began to dispose of the dirty bandages and cut clean bandages for replacements, “I’ll go work on the ointment for the pain while that happens.”

Iroh noted the man’s soft tone and realized he was giving him some time and space to come to terms with the injury.

“Thank you, Healer Akiro, I am indebted to you,” he bowed before the man left the room with one final concerned glance at the Prince.

Iroh settled in the vacated chair by Zuko’s bedside. He took the opportunity to examine the now day old wound up close.

  
  


Iroh had seen emergency amputations less grotesque than the raw burn marring the left side of his nephew’s face.

He was tempted to tell Captain Jee to turn around so he could march back to the palace and throttle Ozai with his bare hands.

Instead, he clasped Zuko’s clammy hands in his own, squeezing as the boy twitched restlessly in his exhaustion induced sleep. 

“Oh, Nephew,” he began, voice tremulous, “I have failed you like I failed your cousin.” A tear began to trace its way down the tired old man’s cheek. “I failed to protect you, but you were so brave..”

His eyes traced the unburnt side of Zuko’s face, his handsome features and the shielded but normally bright eyes, pale like his father, but kind like his mother. 

He’d asked the healers back at the palace if Zuko’s left eye and ear would be saved. The swelling in the eye had been too severe for them to examine the eye underneath, however. They would not know if Zuko would retain vision in the eye for a few days, Akiro had said. As for the ear, they would not know of any hearing impairment until Zuko was lucid enough to communicate with the healer. 

Iroh prayed that Zuko did not bear any permanent effects of the burn aside from the inevitable scar that would cover his young face for the rest of his life. 

He knew that any physical handicaps could be embraced and that he himself would help Zuko train to account for any. He knew they would not be shameful weaknesses. However, he also knew just how deep his brother’s poison ran in Zuko’s mind. He knew Zuko would see any physical disabilities as further proof of his own inferiority. 

Another tear slipped from Iroh’s eye as he recalled the confident, bright eyed boy who’d demanded to be let into the war council meeting in the first place. 

Iroh feared he would not meet that boy again for a long time. Possibly never again.

But it wouldn’t matter. 

“Whatever may befall us, Nephew, I promise I will not leave you.”

He saw the glint of the knife he’d sent Zuko from Ba Sing Se lifetimes ago and closed his eyes remembering the inscription. Remembered every moment of loss and regret and personal failing that had led him to this point. 

“I will never give up on you, Zuko.”

Zuko groaned again, unaware of his solemn promise. But Iroh knew the spirits had heard him. And he knew he would not break this oath no matter what.

* * *

Zuko woke up screaming. 

Iroh startled, immediately jumping up, then immediately speaking to his nephew, trying to calm him down.

“Shhhh, Zuko, you are alright, shhhh,” Iroh made sure he was visible from Zuko’s good side. “It’s me nephew, I’m here, you’re safe…”

Zuko’s good pupil was blown wide in fear or pain or both, but his left eye was now once again hidden under salve and copious amounts of clean bandages. 

Slowly, Zuko’s breathing seemed to start regulating as he took in his uncle’s face, then the familiar Fire Nation regalia around him. 

“We’re on our new ship, the wani,” Iroh explained further, hoping to calm the boy, but he just clenched his good eye closed in a flinch. 

“So it wasn’t a dream..” he whispered, voice raspy and broken in more than one way. 

Iroh sighed sadly, running a hand through Zuko’s sweaty hair. Part of his hairline on the left side been singed, but surprisingly, the rest was still okay. 

“No, unfortunately, not,” Iroh went to grab the water pitcher Akio had left out on the bedside table. “Drink this, it’ll help you.”

Zuko seemed too exhausted and defeated to argue, so he parted his lips and took a sip, but flinched like even the small movements pained him.”

“How badly does it hurt, Nephew?” Zuko glanced back at him before staring resolutely at the ceiling above him, hands shaking ever so slightly as they gripped the blanket covering his torso. 

“I can call Healer-”

“NO,” Zuko hissed, then gritted out more slowly, “no, not yet,” he struggled to sit up a bit to Iroh’s displeasure. 

“How long has it been?” his voice shook as he struggled to control it, breaking Iroh’s already heavy heart some more. 

“It has been four days now..” Iroh relented. “You have been in and out of consciousness since we boarded.”

“I want...I want to see a mirror.” 

Iroh considered arguing that he should get more rest first, but he did not think Zuko would be persuaded right now. Something in his voice was too vulnerable. It silently begged Iroh not to challenge him right now. 

“As you wish,” Iroh said solemnly, searching the room until he found a small looking glass. He warily resumed Zuko’s side.

“I must warn you, Prince Zuko, your injury has not had time to heal, I fear you may be more disheartened than-”

Zuko snatched the small reflective glass out of his hands in a fit of rudeness Iroh had never experienced from Zuko before. He simply frowned and watched as Zuko held it up to take in his bandaged visage. 

Before Iroh could begin to stop him, he began ripping at the edges of his bandages, wincing as he did so, pulling at the raw skin. 

“Nephew! Nephew, please!” He covered Zuko’s thin fingers with his own calloused knuckles. 

“I _need_ to see, Uncle,” Zuko begged, gold eye wide and imploring and also filled with a horrible dread.

“At least let me,” Iroh let out a shaky sigh, feeling rattled by the violent display as he more calmly and gently began unpeeling and unwinding the bandages from Zuko’s face like he’d practiced under the instruction of Akio the day before. 

He pulled his hands back with the old bandages, waiting. 

Hand now clearly shaking, Zuko brought the mirror up to see his own reflection. 

Iroh knew he was seeing the way the still angry red marking spread across the entire left side of his face, extending all the way to his ear. His eyebrow and part of his hair had been singed off entirely. The swelling had decreased, but his left eye was still slitted shut, and it was obvious that even if the lids were able to part, there would be permanent damage. 

Zuko dropped the mirror onto his lap, right side of his face blank and unreadable.

“Zuko-” tried, hesitantly, but the boy wouldn’t look at him.

“ _Out_.”

“You should-”

“Please leave me. Now.”

Iroh sighed, feeling the start of a sad new normal.

“I’ll find Akiro and come back with more pain salve later.”

Zuko just nodded, looking numb.

But right before Iroh exited, he spoke once more.

“And bring back a razor.”

“What for, Prince Zuko?” Though he already knew.

“I have lost my honor,” he recited the words like a hollow machine, “I cannot wear the hairstyle befitting a Crown Prince of Sozin’s line until I have regained it.”

“Of course, Nephew,” Iroh responded sadly.

The moment he shut the door behind him, he bowed his head and sent a prayer up to Agni.

_Please help him. Please help me help him._


End file.
